I put away all the newborn sized clothes tonight.
I really didn’t have that much newborn stuff. My oldest came out 9 lbs and never even wore newborns. Number two was slightly smaller at 8 lbs 1 oz, so she wore a few newborn outfits but not for long.
My sweet little number three, however, at 5 lbs 8 oz, was swimming in them from the beginning. We had to roll the sleeves, sometimes more than once in the early days. Only now, nearly twelve weeks later, is she finally filling them out.
Packing away outgrown clothes is bittersweet. I’m so unbelievably grateful that she is growing right on schedule. And honestly, I can’t wait until she starts to sit up and laugh and play.
But I’m already aware of how differently she fits in my arms. I’m already noticing her losing that sweet curled up newborn posture. I look at my toddler, who just yesterday was curled up in the rocking chair with me after a nighttime feeding as an infant, and I see how much she has changed and how fast the time has gone. And don’t get me started on my oldest.
I blinked.
This part is hard with every child, but it is harder this time because she is the last. This is it. I’m not just packing away the newborn clothes after this baby.
I’m packing away the newborn clothes after all the babies.
I’ll never again pull out the labeled totes, wash and fold tiny sleepers in anticipation for meeting a new little one. I’ll never again pack them gently in a diaper bag in preparation for the hospital stay. It feels weird to be “done”. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt my heart just a little. I’d be lying if it didn’t hurt just a little in anticipation of how much it’s going to hurt down the road.
I’m all for honoring one’s feelings. So I’m not usually inclined to dismiss or negate this hurt. But suddenly as I’m writing this post I can also hear a little voice of logic in my head saying,
“SUCK IT UP.”
Yeah, it’s wonderful and beautiful and profound that they grow and it’s an unbelievable blessing when they are healthy enough to do so. And it also sucks that they stop being little and that these sweet moments won’t last and that there won’t be any more newborn phases.
Because here’s the thing: I don’t have time to dwell on either one of those things.
This weekend I sat on the floor in my six year old’s room and played legos with her. The baby and the toddler were downstairs with their dad, so I didn’t have to divide my attention at all. I could just sit and play with her. We goofed around and made up songs while we built houses and cars and airplanes.
And at one point, without looking up from her building, she said, “I miss doing this with you. I wish we could do this more often.”
And my heart broke a little.
This was the main reason I made the final decision to be done. Because I don’t want to divide my attention any further than it already is. I want to be able to savor these moments with each of my children. I want to cherish every phase, not just the little ones and not just the last ones. And I want to be able to be my best self while doing so. Which means budgeting time for self-care and individual time with each kiddo. And time to write and read and SLEEP. (Sleep, LOL!)
So here we are. The beginning of the end of “little” in our house. There is now a definitive timeline that will lead to a stage in which we will be done raising little people. It’s impossible to imagine. And yet the inevitability still breaks my heart a little.
But that’s okay. Because the heartbreak is just one color in a rainbow of feelings that go along with parenting. Feelings I’m blessed to have because they are proof that I’m paying attention. Feelings I’m blessed to have because I’m blessed to have the little people who inspire them.